


The Rise of the Serpent and the Descent of the Phoenix

by Luthienberen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Dark, Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-04 02:50:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14583309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthienberen/pseuds/Luthienberen
Summary: What if Harry and Fawkes had lost the battle in the Chamber of Secrets? What then?





	The Rise of the Serpent and the Descent of the Phoenix

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally posted in 2005 in other archives. However, I am now reposting here. Edited ever so slightly for grammar and spelling, but otherwise as it was originally posted. Description of Lucius is how I see book!Lucius, just in case it jars with anyone who has movie!Lucius in their head.
> 
> This is a complete AU to the books after The Chamber of Secrets. This was meant to be part of a longer story, which I never got around to writing where Voldemort comes back to full power and former appearance due to black magics and potions etc. I apologise then if there is any inconsistencies. Not beta read. 
> 
> Also, there is a quote from CoS _**-like this- ******_ ** **.****

Harry leant against the wall struggling for breath as his vision swam. He knew the poison from the Basilisk’s fang was spreading through his veins. A red liquid dripped steadily over his clasped fingers from the hideous wound on his arm, drenching his robes, collecting into a pool on the damp ground. Body trembling from fatigue and pain his legs gave way; in the distance he heard Thomas Riddle’s high, cruel triumphant laughter and hateful voice.  
  
"You’re dying Potter. See? The bird knows this, he sits by you crying."  
  
Weakly Harry focused on Fawkes, whose crimson head was bent over his arm, pearly tears falling onto the wound. Sucking oxygen into burning lungs Harry fought to maintain consciousness, casting his gaze to where Ginny lay huddled, a fiery cloth shrouding her face. Above him Thomas Riddle continued in a mocking tone.  
  
"At the last Lord Voldemort defeated you. You lived on borrowed time, but I eventually got you, as you knew must happen. The famous ‘Boy-who-lived’," he spat in contempt, "dying as he should have done twelve years ago. How is death Harry Potter? Painful?"  
  
_Painful?_ Thought Harry through the dim fog that swathed his mind, _No. My pain fades as my vision clears. Fawkes?_

Blinking Harry turned his sluggish head to the multi-coloured bird by his side, beady eyes still damp from crying, when memory surfaced. **_"Fascinating creatures, phoenixes. They can carry immensely heavy loads, their tears have healing properties and they make highly faithful pets.”_ **

It seemed a lifetime ago that Dumbledore had spoken those words to him in his office. Unfortunately, his foe had also remembered that particular piece of information and before Harry could act he shouted,  
  
"Leave bird! Get away!"  
  
A fearful bang sounded, feathers of scarlet and gold flying off in a colourful swirl. Harry groaned for he could see that his wound was not entirely healed, yet before he could despair flapping wings soared past him dropping with a dull thud a thin black book onto his soiled lap. Instinct prevailed. Harry levered himself to his feet swaying, before lunging for the Basilisk’s fang, which lay in the middle of the dimly lit Chamber. Yet even as he grabbed the fang, ready to plunge it into the very heart of the diary, there was a cry of "Avada Kedavra."  
  
For a brief moment the world went green before descending into a dark void. Opening his eyes, the boy turned to peer at the feathered being by his side, who held out his hand to guide him through the fields of waving corn.

 _I’ve failed,_ Harry thought, grieved even as the brilliantly clad golden-haired Angel led him home.  
  
Standing victorious over Harry’s slumped body Riddle reached down to retrieve his diary. He then proceeded to drag Harry over to Ginny, kneeling by their bodies. Carefully turning over Ginny he observed her ashen pallor, glazed brown eyes, shallow breaths rasping in her chest, her flame-red hair a curtain of spun blood. He knew his waiting was almost over.  
  
Steadily the seconds passed with Riddle watching as his hands become clearer, taking on solid shape, losing their blurriness. At last the death rattle sounded in Ginny’s throat, her body tensing as her breath flowed out of her lungs, signalling the departure of her soul.

  
Rising Thomas Riddle flung back his head, his cold high laugh filling the poorly lit Chamber. Even as the last spasm trembled thorough Ginevra’s body an exultant boy snatched up the used diary setting it alight with a quick "Incendio".

 

Leaving the dead for later consideration the Heir of Salazar Slytherin strode out of the Chamber of Secrets mulling through his options. Deciding to retrace Harry’s footsteps he backtracked up the tunnel until he heard the sound of shifting rocks.  
  
"Harry? Is that you?" came an anxious voice.  
  
_Ah, that must be the intrepid Ronald Weasley._ Pretending to be Harry Riddle answered, "Yes. Ginny is resting. Thomas Riddle is with me. I’ll explain later! He’ll go first."

  
"Okay!" replied a very relieved boy. "Ginny? Don’t worry! I love you!"  
  
_How trusting and easily fooled are Gryffindors,_ thought a smirking Thomas Riddle.

 

Climbing through the hole he immediately cried "Stupefy!" preventing Ron from gathering his wits. Nudging Ron’s stunned form he addressed him icily.  
  
"Grant me information and I might just let you live."  
  
Staring into hard black eyes, which had a peculiar red gleam Ron understood beyond a shadow of a doubt that this boy would sooner kill him than allow him to live and tell the tale. The frozen fingers of terror seized his heart, draining the blood from his face.  
  
"Finite Incantatem."  
  
A flick of Harry’s wand released Ron from the spell to only be bound with a wand at his neck.  
  
"Move," hissed Riddle.  
  
"Wh..wh…where’s Ginny and Harry?" asked Ron, fear plain in his tone.  
  
An evil smile lit the dark haired boy’s face.  
  
"Dead," he whispered. "In the end Harry succumbed as he knew he must."  
  
"You killed my sister!" screamed Ron in rage and grief.  
  
Bending his head so that his breath brushed Ron’s face the much taller boy murmured, "Temper, temper. If you wish to avenge your sister’s and friend’s death," at this he laughed, "you best behave. It is not wise to anger Lord Voldemort."  
  
"Who?" gasped Ron in disbelief.  
  
"Why me of course. Released from my diary where I had preserved my sixteen-year-old self, all with the greatest thanks to your little, pathetic, whining sister."  
  
Too horrified to do or say anything in response to such provocation Ron simply stared at the tall figure.  
  
"He Who Must Not Be Named!"  
  
"Yes, now resume your walking."  
  
Thrusting the redhead down the passage they recommenced their pace. A couple of minutes later saw them at the bottom of the pipe from where Ron, Harry and Lockhart had emerged. Sitting there, gazing around aimlessly, was none other than Gilderoy Lockhart. Riddle studied him coldly.  
  
"Who is this?"  
  
"Lockhart. Professor Lockhart," answered Ron sullenly. "He is a liar. He cast Memory Charms on other witches and wizards, taking on their achievements as his own. He’s a fake and a coward. He tried to cast a Memory Charm on us to prevent Harry and I from rescuing my…my sister."  
  
Choking on his sorrow Ron bowed his head to hide the tears of loss. Cocking his head to one side Riddle regarded the golden-haired man.  
  
"Pretty aren’t we?"  
  
"Oh, who are you?" asked Lockhart good-naturedly.  
  
"Me? Well?" crouching down, green eyes locked with sky-blue orbs. "I am Thomas Marvolo Riddle, better known as Lord Voldemort."  
  
Pronounced in such a manner that suggested that he should know the name and man Lockhart stared in confusion eyes slightly unfocused in contemplation.  
  
"Should I know you?" he asked finally.

  
Eyes glittering strangely Riddle replied, "Yes, but you cannot for your memory is lost."  
  
"Oh really?" remarked Lockhart unperturbed. Carefully reaching out a hand the dark wizard traced the contours of the blond’s face.  
  
"Yes really. Yet what to do with you? Unlikely your memory shall return. Ron here tells me you are vain, a liar and a coward. Not marvellous or enviable qualities in a human, but in one so beautiful they could be forgiven. After all you may be useful for my cause."

  
Suddenly Riddle’s head jerked up and he appeared to consult the air for something before abruptly reaching a decision.  
  
  
"We are leaving."  
  
"How?" challenged Ron. "We can’t go back up the pipe and Dumbledore will kill you if you do!"  
  
Mirth shone in emerald-green eyes.  
  
"Don’t be foolish boy. Do you truly believe that the great Salazar Slytherin would not have thought of such a matter as multiple entrance exit routes? We descend deeper into the bowls of the earth, further under the Lake and past. Come Gilderoy. I have uses for one as fair you."  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
Hands clasped behind his back the tall man surveyed the sweeping majesty that was the grounds of Malfoy Manor. Everything had gone perfectly. They had reached Malfoy Manor undetected in excellent time, allowing him to summon Walden McNair to deal with his two captives until he decided what their fates should be.  
  
A change of clothing had gone further to improving his mood. True, they were not robes, for Lucius was nowhere near enough to him in height or build, but they had style and flair, and were in admirable condition no matter being Lucius’ grandfather’s garments. What else could one expect though, from the Malfoys apart from care and nigh on perfection?  
  
Plus the expression on Narcissa’s face when she saw who were her ‘guests’ had been heaven. She had never liked him, so his return could not be looked upon favourably.

 

Thomas Riddle frowned. He, too, had little liking for her, for she had unforgivably intruded upon Lucius’ and his relationship, bearing her husband the son that Lucius so deeply desired and, indeed, required for the inheritance and continuance of the Malfoy name and lineage.

 

That had cost him his second in command’s time and attention, a horrendous state of affairs, a state of affairs that would not be permitted to occur again.  
  
Narcissa had to be removed plain and simple. Draco had to live otherwise Lucius would once more seek a suitable mate to bear him a legal heir. However, such a removal had to be done quietly but efficiently and as quickly as possible – without Lucius realising the truth. After all accidents did happen.  
  
‘Nothing shall prevent Lucius and I from renewing our relationship. Not this time.’  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
Thomas Riddle kissed the bared white throat, nipping at the pale flesh leaving a trail of red marks in his wake. The man under him moaned softly causing Riddle to smirk against the cool skin. He would make this silver haired demon lose the vaunted Malfoy reserve, forcing beautiful sounds of abandon from the slender neck and body. With fierce determination he resumed his foreplay.  
  
Thin, long fingers danced over Malfoy’s robes teasing him, daring him to beg his Lord to remove the offending garments. Yet Lucius maintained his composure, he would not beg – for now. Riddle moved lower sucking nipples through silken cloth, hands massaging the growing bulge between the older man’s legs.  
  
Gasping Lucius squeezed his eyes shut, struggling to resist the urge to arch into those skilful hands and lips, however, when his Lord bit down on the hardened, covered, nub he could no longer endure and clutched his Lord’s shoulders raising his body into the warm shape above. High, cold laughter and a mocking voice followed his actions.  
  
"Has the esteemed and feared control of the Malfoys’ slipped? Does this Malfoy wish for my touch? For me to remove these offensive clothes?"  
  
Lucius gritted his teeth, face flushing with humiliation at the slightly scornful note, but he could not deny the claim or refuse the question when his Master’s hand squeezed the bulge in his pants. Deciding he would give in now and exhibit control later in their sex - he would not beg at the last for his Lord to take him! - He hissed,  
  
"Yes my Lord! Please remove my robes."  
  
The Dark Lord did so with great enthusiasm and haste. Expensive clothing was ripped and yanked off, exposing creamy white skin, leaving Lucius clad only in shimmering trousers. With a grin as friendly as a snake Thomas slid down Lucius’ willowy figure to crouch down by his feet. Smiling cruelly, he delicately picked up the left foot, stroking one finger down the sole. Lucius shivered, watching with wide eyes as his Master lent down to place a feather light kiss on his ankle.  
  
Next thing he knew feather light kisses were being deposited all over his foot, carving a burning trail of sensations to travel straight to his groin and throughout his entire body. Grasping the bed-sheets Lucius focused on breathing and not whimpering like some pathetic weakling. Aims that flew straight out of the window when a beautiful heat engulfed his material clad erection.  
  
Crying out Lucius arched off the bed moaning at the feelings of his Lord’s mouth moving over his desire. Smirking around his mouthful Riddle peered up at the trembling form desperately trying to regain some equilibrium, something that he had no intention to permit.

 

Gripping the bony hips, he prevented the lithe demon from movement, causing a wail of frustration to be torn from an irate throat. He chuckled, the vibrations making Lucius yelp and sob.  
  
"Please!"  
  
Agreeing whole-heartedly that it was time to move the show on Riddle released his prisoner, allowing Lucius to fumble with his sheer trousers, then, frantically pull them and his pants down freeing his hard cock. Riddle watched lazily as he stretched, towering over the smaller man, displaying his youthful physique. Soon, when he merged his spirit with his present wandering soul, thereby returning him to full strength, he would be a terrible and imposing vision to see. Soon.  
  
Riddle appraised the naked man sprawled on the bed-sheets underneath him, hand tracing the contours of the supple flesh, dipping in-between spread thighs to lightly tease the entrance to Lucius’ body. Grey eyes watched avidly, chest rising and falling with the increasingly erratic breaths of the blond’s desire.  
  
Riddle gripped Lucius’s leg forcing it back and up, so he could more easily access the tight ring of muscle. Reaching for the oil he slicked his fingers in it prior to pushing one in. Lucius’ sharp intake of breath caused him to pause momentarily to allow Lucius to adjust, before starting to feel around inside the clinging walls of muscle.  
  
Lucius squeezed his eyes shut trying to cope with the burning pain that swept up through his body from the invading fingers of his Lord. Panting, he concentrated on relaxing to shorten the agony as much as possible.

 

Riddle bent his head to nip, lick and bite his way along the sensitive flesh of the inside of his servant’s thighs. Lucius cried out in pleasure, squirming on the intruding fingers, no longer caring about the pain, as long as he could get closer to the hot talented mouth, which hungrily mapped its path up and down his legs.  
  
Lucius arched up into his Lord’s demanding mouth, descending down with equal fervour on his Master’s moving fingers, which brushed against his prostate sending him into whirlpools of pleasure. His whole body trilled with his Master’s tune, he was nothing but the instrument on which his Lord played a searing melody.  
  
Lapping up Lucius’ pre-cum Thomas decided that his aching cock needed immediate attention. Hastily he smeared oil on his organ, removing his fingers to rapidly replace them with his much thicker, and longer, straining manhood. Firmly pushing Lucius’ legs up and grasping slender hips in powerful hands he thrust forward brutality.  
  
Lucius arched off the bed screaming in agony at the fiery wave that crashed over him sweeping him helplessly into the dark abyss of torment, for his Master did not hesitate or pause to allow him to adjust, but immediately commenced thrusting. Yet, eventually, the burning fury abated giving way to the all-embracing eddies of delight.  
  
Riddle closed his eyes. He was in Heaven. The tight, clinging, narrow walls of Lucius’ channel were bliss and agony upon his stabbing manhood. It was evident Lucius had not been taken for a long time. This pleased the Dark Lord for it meant that Lucius had not sought male lovers after his Master’s fall, which was right, for Lucius belonged to him and no one else.  
  
The Dark Lord’s thrusts slammed into the slender body rocking him as a defenceless boat upon a stormy sea, both participants lost in the blaze of the act. Yet it could not last for it had been too long since they had last coupled. Lucius arched upwards nails digging into broad shoulders as he descended into the white fury of ecstasy.  
  
Riddle, panting, drove forwards past the clenching muscles, which sought to milk his cock of his liquid treasure, resisting until at last he succumbed to the seductive pull of the current tumbling down into consuming fires of rapture.  
  
Biting deeply into the soft flesh of the junction between neck and shoulder, he drew blood, marking Lucius as his.  
  
"Mine," he growled around his mouthful of coppery wine, rolling to the side, gathering a sleepy Death Eater into his arms. There they lay, still joined, until the rising sun’s rays bathed them in her scarlet and gold train.  
  
  
* * *


End file.
